


Been Here All Along

by awesomeaislin



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Agatha Wellbelove is not as bad as she seems, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Boys In Love, Fluff, M/M, Song: You Belong With Me(Taylor Swift), Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:37:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomeaislin/pseuds/awesomeaislin
Summary: A Normal-AU based on Taylor Swift's "You Belong with Me" because I've been pondering it for a whole night."These days Snow is always a little bit worn down. He’s always on the phone fighting. Always. It’s not his fault Wellbelove isn’t right for him. It’s not his fault that he thinks that if he keeps trying it’ll work."





	Been Here All Along

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all in a couple of hours because I couldn't not because I listen to you belong with me constantly and I think I saw a tumblr post about this once and it's just such a good idea, so I'm hope you're happy I did this instead of my database design homework or my grading. I should have maybe edited this too, oh well
> 
> Let me know what you think

**BAZ**

Snow’s on the phone with his girlfriend: she’s upset.

 

The day Simon Snow moved across the street from me was the best/worst day of my life.  I was eleven years old, about to start practicing the violin when I heard it. The yelling and screaming. I thought something was wrong, so I rushed to my bedroom window only to see Snow and his mother chasing each other round the garden happily. I’ve been obsessed ever since.

 

I’ve never seen any people quite as sunshiney as Simon and Lucy. They glow like the sun. You can't stand to look for too long, but you can't quite bring yourself to look away either. Even their house seems brighter and more full of life. Especially compared to our polished and perfect mansion, it’s the largest house on the street. Before they moved in I didn’t even know that the size of a house didn’t determine how nice it was. Their house is the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen, besides Snow of course.

 

We don’t talk much, but I see him constantly as his bedroom window is facing mine. We’re familiar enough with each other that it’s not awkward to see each other. You get to know someone pretty well by being able to peer into their bedroom at will. (His is messy, but somehow perfect regardless.)

 

Anyway, these days Snow is always a little bit worn down. He’s always on the phone fighting. Always. It’s not his fault Wellbelove isn’t right for him. It’s not his fault that he thinks that if he keeps trying it’ll work.

 

I know what they’re fighting about this time because they blew up at school. Agatha screaming because he had made some dumb joke. She just doesn’t get his sense of humor. Not like I do.

 

I make an effort to look away from him. I don’t want to be caught watching. I don’t want him to think that I’m entertained by all his drama. I’d rather he was happy really. So I focus on my studying. (That’s probably how I get such good grades anyway. I spend so much time trying not to look at Simon.)

 

When I look back up, Simon is staring out the window instead of studying. He doesn’t look great. On an impulse I pull out a notepad and write, ‘Are you ok?’ and hold it up to him. He beams at me. Like he’s never been happier. Like he wasn’t just arguing on the phone for hours. Typical.

 

‘Better now,’ He responds as if that won’t kill me. As if that wouldn’t kill any sensible human being.

 

I write that I love him, but I don’t hold it up because that would be a crazy person move. He’d think I was a psychopath. I tear out the page and leave it on my desk.

 

I nod at him, close the blinds, and turn out the light. I think I’ve pined after Simon enough for one night.

 

I an hour later, when I’m still not asleep, when I’m still thinking of him. I open to the blind just to see if he’s still up. If he’s really ok. And there he is: Dancing around the room by himself, Singing into a hair brush,  Shining like the sun once again.

 

I go back to bed.

* * *

 

A few weeks later, I’m outside sitting in the front garden trying to do some homework because Daphne complained, “Basil, you’re so pale. I’m worried you aren’t getting enough sunshine.” As if the lack of sunlight was _really_ making a big impact on my life.

 

It’s not objectively that bad out here. Except the grass is a little bit itchy, and the sun is glaring on my laptop, and my laptop is running out of battery. And all of that bothers me.

 

Well, it all bothers me until Snow sits down right next to me and just starts talking. As if we’re the best of friends, and we talk all the time, and we interact outside of our bedroom windows.

“Basilton,” He smiles at me. Like it’s normal for him. And then he starts to ramble. Like it’s normal for him to be rambling to me.  “Can I just call you Basil? Or Baz? Baz is definitely better. I know you’ve got your super long posh name, but I can’t really say that all that well, as you must have heard, and I mean your friends can’t really say your whole name every time right?”

 

 _‘What friends?’_ I think.

 

“Baz is fine,” I say. I don’t really know what to say out loud to him. We don’t really have out loud conversations.

 

“So what are you doing outside today, Baz?” He asks like he really wants to know. Like he cares about the answer.

 

“My stepmum thinks I don’t leave the house enough, but apparently this is enough for her,” I tell him honestly. “It’s like she thinks I’m a plant or something and I can’t grow without sunlight. I’m not even growing anymore.”

 

And he actually laughs. As if I’m funny. I’m struck by how easy it is to just spend time with him. Unlike with the other 99% of the human population this is so easy. He finds me funny. He's smiling at me. With his hair a mess and his worn out jeans, he’s just being here with me.

 

“Hey, maybe you’ll grow another foot if you stay out here long enough,” He giggles.

 

“Not like it’s done you any good,” I retort, “I’m taller than you and you’re out here all the time.”

 

“You see me outside?” He asks like it means something to him, but he’s still laughing.

 

“I _hear_ you outside,” I clarify. “You might as well just come into my room and bang pots around for as loud as you are when I’m trying to study.”

 

“Sorry,” He gasps between laughs. And I kind of want this moment to keep going forever. I’d die happy like this.

 

But of course that doesn’t happen. Because Agatha Wellbelove pulls up and tells Simon to get in. Simon frowns but complies. Agatha shoots me a look over her shoulder before driving away. _What the fuck does that even mean?_

* * *

 

When I said I didn’t have friends, I suppose that was technically a lie. Because I do have one person who actively talks to me. Penelope Bunce. But she’s more of an acquaintance. We don’t talk outside of school, but we do almost everything in school in proximity to each other, being numbers one and two in the class (I’m number one despite Bunce’s efforts to overthrow me (her boyfriend is number 3)).

 

So I’m not surprised when she texts me on a Friday night, a normal homework time for us over-achievers, but I am surprised when she’s texted me about something that isn’t homework.

 

 _From Bunce_  

_‘basil, I need someone to go to the Rugby game with me. Micah is sick, and Mum won’t let me go without a friend, and Simon wants me to watch him’_

 

_To Bunce:_

_‘I’m busy, Bunce’_

 

_From Bunce:_

_‘No you’re not, I asked your mum’_

 

I sigh. Penelope Bunce never really does give you a choice in these things.

 

_From Bunce:_

_‘Hurry up, Pitch_

* * *

 

When we get to the game, I’m not all that surprised to see Agatha doing twirls on and flips in a mini skirt. She is the head cheerleader after all. I am a little surprised when she throws another look my way. I roll my eyes.

 

I don’t much care for this sport. I mean what’s the point really. Like c’mon. It’s just a bunch of guys trying to break each other’s skulls. Traditional football is much better. It’s an art.

And then I see him and I change my mind. Yeah rugby is a little bit pointless, but maybe the point is getting to see Simon Snow in tight shorts that leave almost nothing to the imagination.

 

Penelope must confuse my ogling for confusion because she needlessly explains everything that is happening.

 

“Why do you know so much about Rugby anyway?” I ask. Because she really has no reason to. Her boyfriend is no athlete, and I’d guess there hasn’t been a non-academic in the Bunce family in decades.

 

“Simon rambles about things he likes alot,” She explains.

 

“So I suppose you know all too much about Wellbelove, then,” I say as if it’s a joke. But I’m not joking.

 

“Not really,” Bunce smirks at me, “In fact, I’d say he rambles more about you.” I roll my eyes. “Really,” She assures me, “I had to put a cap on how much he’s allowed to talk to you. It’s always _‘Penny, last night Baz did homework for the entire night and he doesn’t even look tired, how is that possible?’_ or ‘ _Penny, don’t you think it’s pretty weird that I’ve seen Baz play the violin hundreds of times, but I’ve never actually_ heard _him play it.’”_

 

I don’t say anything. I wasn’t aware he’s ever been paying attention. It’s not like it means anything at all. He’s still dating Wellbelove. 

* * *

 

At the end of the match, Bunce drags me down to the field so that she can tell Simon what a great job he’s done. She says he ‘ _needs encouragement, Baz’_. As if there aren’t a pile of people telling how incredible he is. He is incredible.

 

“Simon!” Penelope yells to him, and he sprints over and gives the two of us a bear hug. As if that’s a normal thing for him to d. When he lets us go, Penny tells him that everything he did was incredible, and he does that thing where he pretends he doesn’t know it was, and I’m about to tell him he doesn’t have to be humble when I notice that he isn’t looking at us anymore.

 

I follow his line of sight, and Agatha is flirting with some other guy. “I have to go,” is all he says before he goes to confront her. Penelope tells me we better go before it gets too dramatic, and I don’t really want to, but I do because it would be too obvious if I didn’t.

* * *

 

It takes Snow over two hours to get back to his room and his window, and I’ve been staring at that dumb ‘I love you’ sign almost the whole time. I should really just throw it away.  


Anyway, Simon Snow looks exhausted but not devastated like you’d expect from someone who was just nearly cheated on. No one is so sunshiney that _that_ doesn’t get to them. No one, Not even Simon Snow. 

 

‘Shouldn’t you be crying over Wellbelove or something,’ I hold up even though it’s insensitive. It’s not like I’m a sensitive person anyway.

 

He laughs a little when he sees it. He needs to stop doing that, or pretty soon I’m not going to be able to stop myself from holding up that stupid sign. He shrugs at me. _God he’s infuriating._

 

‘Seriously? Are you alright?’ I ask because I have to. Because I can’t stop myself.

 

‘Yeah, it wasn’t working out anyway,’ He writes. I wonder if he knows how ridiculous of an understatement that is. ‘Are you going to the dance tomorrow?’

 

‘No. Studying.’ He frowns a little. Why would that matter to him? It’s just a dumb dance and I never end up going.

 

‘I wish you were,” He mouths. He writes something then frowns at it and tears it out of his notebook. I guess I understand writing down dumb things and taking them back. Mine is likely infinitely worse than his. ‘Goodnight, Baz’ He writes. He closes his blinds and I don’t even get to see him dance tonight.

* * *

 

It’s a terrible idea. The whole thing is a terrible idea. This suit is a terrible idea.  Daphne driving me here is a terrible idea. The torn out note in my pocket is a terrible idea.

 

I don’t even know why I’m doing it. It’s not because of Daphne. Even though she’d told me I should. And it’s not because of Bunce’s three _hundred_ texts (all along the lines of ‘ _pLeeeAaaasSeE, Baz’ (‘this is why I’m top of the class, Bunce’))_. It’s definitely not because of the look on Simon’s face last night.

 

Definitely not _any_ of those things. Not at all.

 

But I’m here and I’m overwhelmed. I know all these people, but I don’t want to be around them. Weekends are meant to be for studying and obsessing over Simon Snow not being packed in like sardines with your 200 classmates who you vaguely despise.

 

I just stand in the entrance for a while until a hand rests on my shoulder. I turn and Snow is right there. He is right there, and he’s looking at me like I’m something important. Like I’m something special.

“You said you weren’t coming,” He smiles. His hand doesn’t move. He’s still touching me. He looks incredible. I’ve never seen him like this. Polished and neat and perfect. It occurs to me that I think he looks just as good now as he does with hair in all sorts of directions and dumb worn out jeans.

 

“I wasn’t,” I say honestly. I really wasn’t.

 

“Why did you?” He asks. I don’t know how to explain it to him. What am I meant to say?  That I’m in love with him? That there’s a note in my pocket to prove it? That I thought maybe if I came here I would be brave enough?

 

But I’m not. I’m not brave enough.

 

It’s a good thing he is because he takes a hand off my shoulder, he pulls a note out of his pocket, and he grabs my hand and folds it around his note. “This is why I was here.” And then he disappears into the crowd.

 

And I’m scared to look. I’m scared, but I open it anyway. ‘I love you.’ My heart stops beating. It must be what he wrote last night. I can’t breathe. I need to find him, but Wellbelove intercepts me.

 

“What are you doing here, Basil?” She asks. She looks like she might want me to dance with here. It would be bizarre if I’ve somehow managed to seduce both halves of the school’s ex-golden couple.

 

“I have to go, Wellbelove,” I tell her, and I try to leave but she grabs my arm.

 

“Hey,” She smiles. “Don’t you dare hurt him.”

 

I guess I misjudged her.

* * *

 

It takes me a while to find him. I think back on my one real experience with Simon Snow before all this. It was dark out and I saw him leave his room. We were only eleven. There was no way he was allowed out, so I followed him.

 

I followed him down the street, through a path, and to a pond I’d never seen before. I’d lived here all my life and Simon had managed to find some beautiful thing I’d never seen in just a few months, typical. Where he just sat down and held his head in his hands.

 

“What are you even doing here?” I’d asked. “Won’t your mum be upset if you’re gone.”

 

He’d jumped a little. He hadn’t known I was there after all. “I just needed to breathe. It was too much. I just needed to breathe.”

 

“Okay,” I’d said because I’ve always been okay with anything Simon wants. He can have it all.

 

“Do you want to sit?” He’d offered. So I had. And we just sat there while he cried. Until he stopped crying. Until he wanted to walk home.

* * *

 

If he was going to be anywhere after a note like that, I figured that’s where I’d find him, and I’m right. Of course I’m right. I’m always right.

 

“Simon,” I say. And he turns to look at me and he looks like he might cry. And I try to say something to stop him. I want him to know. I want this. I want him.

 

But the words don’t come, and he just kind of stares at me. “You came,” He says like it’s miraculous.

 

“Of course I did,” I snap. I don’t mean to but I do, but there’s so little bite to it that Simon chuckles. And I want to tell him, but the words still won’t come, but then I remember the note in my pocket.

 

So I take it out. And I unfold it. And I hold it up to him. And he looks at me like he can’t believe it for a second.

 

And then he’s smiling so wide and so big that I think that sun might be out. Even though it’s midnight.

 

And then he’s kissing me. First on the mouth, and then he’s grabbed onto my face and kissing all over, like he needs to cover the entire thing. And it’s sloppy and perfect and wonderful, and I don’t come home until it’s almost light out, and Daphne gapes at me like I’m someone she doesn’t even recognize.

 

But it doesn’t matter because I have Simon Snow. He belongs with me.

 

_Have you ever thought, just maybe,_

_You Belong with me?_

_You belong with me._

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think and tell me if you want me to write anything bc I'm always looking for something to distract me


End file.
